27-Joe

Katherine peered through her family collection of movies on video tape, rattling off several titles. Though there were many that Joe had never seen, in the end they went with one they had both seen—countless times.

“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?” she asked jokingly, but nevertheless Joe could tell she gauged his reaction.

“Hell yeah,” Joe said immediately, and then watched her light up. He was fully genuine though—an upbeat and uplifting flick matched his mood exactly. Plus, this night, wholesome and drug free, was already such a departure from his normal Saturday night routine, it felt right to watch such a lighthearted, innocent movie. This was all part of his new spirit. He went with it, embracing it.

“You like this movie, too, huh?” she asked, pushing the cassette into the VCR and then hitting rewind.

“Oh, c’mon,” Joe replied. “Anyone with a pulse likes this movie.”

“Good answer,” she said, smiling widely, settling onto the couch with him.

The room was dark, except for the glow of the TV screen, and Joe immediately had his arm around her, as he didn’t wish to waste any time at all establishing that. It prompted her to snuggle in closer.

The movie was indeed a joyous selection, as they had fun talking to one another during it, providing funny commentary and such, without really any need to actually pay much attention. But they couldn’t make it even halfway through, because Joe couldn’t stop himself from kissing her, and she responded in kind. Once that started, it seemed like just a minute or so later the credits were rolling up the screen and Ferris was telling them that the movie was over and to go home.

Joe actually took the advice to heart, noticing that the time on the VCR was creeping ever closer to eleven.

“Didn’t you say your parents come home at eleven?” he asked.

“No,” she said, pushing her weight onto him as though she wouldn’t allow him to get up.

Joe smiled, still holding her, and then he started kissing her again.

Finally, he forced himself to check the time once more, and saw it was way too close—the top of the hour was mere minutes away.

“I really shouldn’t meet them like this,” he whispered.

She nodded acceptingly, and then sprang off the couch quite suddenly. She took hold of one of Joe’s hands and pulled him along, saying, “C’mon, hurry. I need to give you something before you leave.”

Joe was more than a little intrigued as they walked to the front door. Once there she placed something in Joe’s hand, and Joe realized it was one of her class pictures that he had asked for earlier. Sometime during the night, she had gone up to her room and signed one of them, and now she had it to give to him.

“Thanks,” Joe said, telling himself not to flip it over and read it—not right in front of her. He had literally hours to read it later. Still it was difficult.

He stashed the photo in his pocket and stepped outside on her front steps. He took a look over his shoulder just to make sure no headlights approached before they hugged and kissed a few more times by the door. Then they whispered bye to one another sweetly, and Joe dashed to his car. He started it and drove off with a single quick wave. She waved back, and then watched him drive away.

Joe sighed, almost in song such was the sheer joy emanating from him. He almost couldn’t remember which way to drive—nor did he feel safe doing so, like he had become intoxicated. Finally, he forced himself to focus, while he also flicked on the radio and turned it up. At a red light, he could wait no longer, so he turned on the interior light and finally read the back of her picture. In response his grin came bursting through, full and unrestrained. Elated, he put her picture in the glove compartment, which he figured was, for the time being, far safer than his pocket.

The thoughts flying through his head were unlike any he’d ever had before. Joe rarely thought about the future—indeed, not even five minutes ahead—but in those moments he thought dreamily of what tomorrow would bring, and then of the summer ahead. It was tantalizingly close, the best of times, and the thought of spending it with her made him dizzy.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he whispered, ecstatic, and he even punched the roof of his car a few times.

With that, a realization dawned upon him.

“I’m fuckin’ gazooted,” he said, his face awed, his eyes shining and dreaming. He hadn’t needed any chemical help whatsoever. Only her.

He punched the roof again and batted the steering wheel along to the Sublime playing on the radio. He also pressed the gas pedal much deeper than he needed to, driving toward Antwann’s house unnecessarily fast.

There was a budding, restless energy within, a great need and desire to celebrate and share his happiness. He couldn’t waste a single second getting to the party. He actually salivated at the thought of it.

Joe parked his car hastily on the street and actually ran toward Antwann’s house, the shouts, laughter, and music drawing him in. He already loved what he heard—it seemed wilder than last night.

“Holy shit! Big Joe!” Ronnie said when he saw him come hustling in through the side gate. “About fuckin’ time!”

Joe dashed up the porch steps at the same time Raza came out through the sliding glass door. Joe started laughing, because Raza was obviously drunk, and sweaty as though he’d been dancing. But then Joe’s eyes widened at the sight of Raza charging at him, suddenly and without warning.

“What the hell?” Joe asked.

Raza knocked him back against the railing, barraging him with punches.

“Dude, stop!” Joe yelled, laughing, trying to fend him off. “What the hell is going on around here?”

“Bros before hos,” Raza said, as he finally began to tire, and the punches slowed. “Bros before hos!”

“Man, you guys are all messed up!” Joe said, looking about. “What did I miss?”

All around the table were slow, lazy laughs. Finally, Joe saw the massive joint in Antwann’s hand, so huge it looked fake.

“There’s no way in hell that is what it looks like.”

“Sit down, fool, and find out for yourself!” Antwann sang.

Joe looked about the table a little more closely.

Crystal Stevens was there and she met his eyes with a cold stare. She looked pissed off and Joe could only assume it was his fault—it usually was.

Alana Herrera was there, too. Like Raza, she was sweaty, like she’d also been dancing. “What’s up, Big Joe?” She said it like a guy, like Ronnie, and the whole table giggled.

Then, to Joe’s utter surprise, he saw the tripping sophomore from last night seated at the table.

“Brad? What the hell? You’re still here?” he asked, shocked.

Brad laughed. “Nah, Joe, you gave me a ride home this morning, remember?”

Paul started snickering also, as did Rob, who both were seated alongside.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I did. And you’re back already, huh? And you guys are all boys now?”

Joe continued around the table, and finally he got to Antwann. He returned his stare with impatient eyes. “C’mon, let’s spark this shit, yo!” he said, as several others called out, seconding the notion.

“Hold up!” Ronnie interrupted. “Joe, come in here.” Ronnie motioned him inside the sliding glass door, eliciting several groans from around the table. “We’ll be back in a second,” he added. “Chill.”

Inside, the music shook Joe’s entire body as they walked into the kitchen. Ronnie produced a pitcher from the fridge and poured a giant cup of red juice.

“This shit is the bomb, dog. This pitcher is the last of it. We saved some for you.”

“Thanks, man!” Joe replied. He had no idea what it was, but nevertheless, he couldn’t wait to pound whatever Ronnie was about to hand to him.

“Hold on,” Ronnie said, withdrawing the cup suddenly. He grabbed a half-full bottle of rum from the countertop. “You got some catchin’ up to do, fool.” He poured a stream into Joe’s cup, at least an extra shot’s worth.

“Damn, Ronnie, chill on that shit!” Joe said. But actually, he didn’t care. He wanted to drink it. He wanted to drink it all.

“Where the hell you been, anyway?” Ronnie asked.

Joe finished a long guzzle and gave a satisfied wince.

“Chillin’ with Katherine.”

“Damn,” Ronnie said, shaking his head. “You missed some great shit over here. I hope you were gettin’ laid.”

Joe didn’t comment, he just grinned and took another long guzzle of the jungle juice as they returned to the back porch. Immediately upon sight of them Antwann sparked the Megaspliff back up as Joe stared in humorous disbelief.

“Damn, Joe, where the hell you been?” Rob asked, as he waited impatiently for the joint to get to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joe murmured.

“You lunchin, Joe,” Antwann said, weakly, after taking a hit. He suppressed a cough while passing the joint to Rob.

“Shiiit…I’m here now, right?”

No one really listened to him, as instead they watched Rob take the massive joint. His hit was overly ambitious, and the lit end of the Megaspliff caught fire as Rob yelled out, “Holy shit!” He batted it out while coughing up a giant cloud of smoke.

Joe laughed until his eyes were wet with tears. It was the most comical damn thing he had ever seen—the joint bursting into flame, Rob’s eyes growing huge and white, his surprised exclamation, and his arm batting out the fire with dire urgency. Joe laughed and laughed and laughed some more, and he wasn’t the only one.

Joe finished his tall cup of loaded jungle juice mere seconds after he took his second hit off the Megaspliff, and then he couldn’t feel any part of his body. Things went into fog with remarkable speed.

He started up on beers after that, and dove into them with reckless abandon, still feeling like he had to catch up with everyone else. It was all so much fun, and he couldn’t stop laughing. He couldn’t shake the image of seeing Rob, holding that joint, his eyes all-huge as the end burst into flame, his pure shock, and the hilarious bellowing exclamation. Joe’s eyes actually did overflow, and the tears shot down his face. Sometimes he hated Rob, but right at that moment, he loved him. Someone who was that funny couldn’t be all bad.

Around that time a new fiendish device made its grand appearance—a beer bong that Antwann had produced from the depths of his basement. Most of the group seated around the table gravitated to the backyard with the beer bong and seemingly endless cans of Beast Lite. Joe recalled people chanting his name as he bonged down a cold one, and spiritedly he chanted other people’s names when it was their turn. He heard his name a lot—he was up to bat several times, apparently. Reckless and wild, Joe overcompensated for the lost time, managing not just to catch up with everyone else, but to surpass them altogether.

No one sat down anymore—they were on their feet, a loud group that had become a singular entity, united in absolute silliness. That entity drifted inside, and they hit the basement dancefloor like a freight train. Wild dancing, jumping, grooving, bumping, grinding—there was no shame. Nerves or hesitation had been vanquished, and there was never much of that to begin with anyway.

Joe jumped up and down like a madman. At times he tried to emulate some of Alana and Raza’s breakdancing, with comical results. Joe didn’t care—as was his style.

Crystal tried to dance with him, but Joe wasn’t having it—he resumed his crazed jumping, not wanting to commit to any dance partners. Amy Weaver neared him a few times, and she was clearly amused by his style and his energy. But Joe just bounced the other way.

He took a break and stood off to the side of the dance floor, chugging a beer. Rob came up and slapped him on the back.

“Dude!” he yelled over the music into Joe’s ear. “You should go for Amy Weaver, man!”

“Nah, bro! That’s all you!” Joe screamed back.

“I tried last night! It didn’t fly! I’m sure she wants it from someone, though! It could be you, dog!”

“Nah, man! Nah!” Joe shook his head, while at the same time bobbing it up and down to the thumping beats.

Rob looked confused. “Crystal Stevens then, right? You can definitely get on her! She’s been following you around since you got here!”

“Nah! Not even trying for that, bro!”

“What the hell’s your deal, then?”

“Katherine Lisi, fool! That’s my girl!” The words felt great coming out of him, as he had to scream them over the music, like he was finally telling the world.

Rob nodded. “That’s cool, that’s cool, bro! But where’s she at right now?”

“She’s at home!”

Rob shook his head and leaned in closer, putting his arm around Joe’s shoulder. As he spoke, he pointed toward Crystal Stevens as she danced before them. Her body was hypnotic in its rhythm.

“Joe! Dude, you could be fuckin’ that! Tonight!”

Joe shook his head rapidly. “I don’t care, man! I’m all about Katherine!”

Rob slapped him on the shoulder, smiling, giving up.

Not long later, Joe found himself in the kitchen with Rob, Ronnie, and Antwann, and they were killing the last bit of jungle juice in giant gulps. Bright red liquid spilled down Joe’s chin, and all over his shirt, too. He didn’t care—he barely even noticed. They laughed and stumbled about. Even though they stood in the kitchen, Joe had never really stopped moving to the music from downstairs, which reverberated through the house and shook the walls. In doing so, he stumbled, and toppled over one of the kitchen chairs, followed by his entire body spilling atop the linoleum floor.

Antwann could barely speak in his laughter. “You a smooth motherfucker, Joe,” he managed, finally.

“Yeah. Have another one, Joe,” Ronnie said.

Joe jumped back on his feet with surprising deftness, shaking the entire kitchen in the process. They even heard some unseen pots and pans toppling over inside one of the cupboards.

“This night really is freakin’ great,” Rob said, a boozy grin plastered on his face. “It’s about time we went fuckin’ old school like this.”

“Hell yeah,” Joe agreed, his body wavering. “Straight fuckin’ old school.”

“Let’s get back downstairs,” Antwann said, knowing they were seconds away from attacking the dancefloor with a newer, wilder vigor.

Without words Joe led the charge down to the basement, barely keeping his balance in a mad, thunderous dash. He reached the bottom of the stairs and then somersaulted onto the dancefloor, the gleeful crowd cheering and making way for him.